Dangerous Thoughts
by Jessica M Scott
Summary: A revised start to an earlier version. Steph has some thoughts on the men in her life.


Standard Disclaimers: They belong to Janet, I only wish they were mine and I really wish Ranger was all mine.

By now, everyone knows my story. I am Stephanie Plum, bounty hunter extraordinaire. Or at least I try to be. Usually I just bumble my way through being a bounty hunter and life in general. Although that seems to have worked for me so far I do know that one of these days sometime soon I will probably have to move beyond bumbling along. As you know I work for my cousin Vinnie, the low-life weasel whose sexual preferences are just best not discussed out loud. I bring in people who have been arrested, are out on bail and have failed to appear for their court dates. I will grant that in pursuit of these FTA's some of my methods have been a bit unorthodox. I seem to meet up with more than my fair share of disasters. Honestly, they are mostly are not my fault! I still feel bad about burning down the funeral home. Anyway, speaking of me and my unfathomable ability to meet up with the most insane situations, let's just join this story and you'll see that. . . well, you'll see that it a day in the life of Stephanie Plum is just what everyone needs to keep them smiling!

**Dangerous Thoughts**

_**Why?**_

"Why?" Joe started, "I mean why – why would you want to roll in garbage and old food for a job? You could have a great life with me. I tried to explain it to you last. . ."

I cut him off quickly, "Because I want to be me! And I have tried and tried to tell you that I would never ever be happy with you!"

Ok, so I didn't mean the last part about not being able to be happy with Joe. I knew I was saying it just to get to him. Apparently it was working. Joe is an Italian Hunk. Yep, Hunk starting with a capital letter. An Italian Hunk with the world's best ass who is a vice cop, owns his own house and comes complete with an overly friendly dog named, Bob. An Italian Hunk who is my on-again/off-again boyfriend that was my first and I am starting to understand may not be my last.

"I suppose you have some else in mind to be happy with." It was more of a statement than a question.

I knew what or should I say who he was referring to. Ricardo Carlos Manoso. One short, but oh so complete sentence that says it all. Cuban Sex God. Ok, so maybe two short, but oh so complete sentences say it all.

Sighing I quietly said, "Joe, you know that's not true."

I waited for Joe's Italian temper to surface all while knowing that within five minutes my cell phone would be ringing with my mother on the other end of the call wondering why I would ruin my best chance at marriage. To my mother marriage is the ultimate and only goal I should have. I don't think she understands that my goal is to fly. I was raised in a district of Trenton, New Jersey referred to as the Burb. In the Burb, marriage is the ultimate fulfillment for a woman. Throw in a few kids, a mini-van, some soccer balls and plastic Blessed Virgin statues in the front yard and you should be set for life.

"Dammit Cupcake, I just want to make you mine. I want to know that you are safe. I want to know that you are clean. I want to come home after a day on the job and walk in to my house with you waiting." Joe exploded with a fair share of Italian hand waving to go with the verbal outbreak. "I shouldn't have to respond to calls at work that involve my girlfriend."

"Your house. Me waiting." I knew it was time to get out of the situation before we both set into motion something we would regret. I turned and quietly walked away from Joe. Pausing in my steps away from my past I softly called back to him, "Joe it's not you I couldn't ever be happy with. I just could never morph into the idea of what you want me to be and still be happy. As important as you are to me, I can't make a decision right now that I know would bring us both unhappiness in the future. And, I can't believe that someone who loves me would encourage me to make decisions that would make me unhappy."

As I got into my car, (yes, I have one that works) I could hear that he was still yelling at me. Although by that point I had tuned him out. I'm thinking we just moved into an off-again state.

I had tears in my eyes as I headed for my apartment in a daze. I kept hearing "walk into my house with you waiting" echoing over and over again in my head. It was a good thing that there weren't any crazies after me on the drive home. I know they would have been able to snatch me. I was just dumbstruck. I don't want to sit and wait for anyone.

I somehow found myself in my apartment. I wanted to just collapse on the bed but the noodles in my hair were starting to dry out and I was afraid that Mr. Alexander may have to cut them out if I waited any longer to attempt an at home removal. A run in with a skip at the local Chinese Buffet restaurant was what started the most recent argument with the man who I thought would be the love of my life.

I stripped off the now ruined white shirt and what was left of my new jeans. I threw my shirt in the wastebasket as I doubted the sweet and sour sauce would be conducive to removal. I headed for the shower determined to put Morelli out of my mind. I know I couldn't avoid the issue forever, but I sure could try.

I stood under the hot spray trying to pull the noodles out of my hair. I know it was an awful messy morning, but I got my FTA. And that's what counts in the real world of bounty hunting – not the method, but the end result. Or so Lula (my sometimes side-kick) and I tell ourselves. My capture rate is about as high as it can be even with my unorthodox methods. Typically bond enforcement agents, better known as bounty hunters carried a bit more of an arsenal with them than I did. Heck, my Grandma Mazur usually had more firepower in her purse than I had anywhere close to me. Typically I left my gun in my cookie jar. I felt safer with it there. Probably I would have better luck intimidating skips if I carried it on me. Oh well, my methods work for me.

With the noodles finally out, I stood with my eyes closed and reached for my body gel. I opened the bottle and instantly knew Ranger had paid me a visit.

Mr. Cuban Sex God, the one Joe tried to blame this morning on, has a housekeeper named Ella who keeps him supplied with a succulent smelling body gel called Bulgari. More than once in Ranger's presence the aroma of his Bulgari smelling body has overwhelmed me. I am sure that it helps matters when the body that smells so good looks so good! That man's body really is a temple worthy of worship. A few times I had been forced (honestly) to shower at Ranger's apartment and of course I used his gel. Apparently, Ranger had noticed that the smell of Bulgari made me weak in the knees, as there was now an industrial sized bottle of the gel in my shower.

The fact that Ranger had broken into my apartment didn't concern me. Everyone, except me, in the greater Trenton area seemed to be able to break into my apartment. What did cause me concern was why. Why would Ranger leave me a bottle of his shower gel?

I hopped out of the shower only because the hot water supply was depleted. I headed for the bed and lay down in my favorite thinking position. It seemed that as much as I would like to avoid any deep thought processes that there was a great need for me to ponder some serious life questions. Might as well get it over with.

I heard my phone ringing and decided to let the answering machine pick up. I knew that it was just my mother calling to ask why I would embarrass poor Joe in front of all of his colleagues. Laying with my arms above my head I thought back to that scene in the police station parking lot. Remembering just how great the world's best butt looked in those faded jeans this morning wasn't going to get me anywhere. I knew I needed to focus. Probably I should start with the issue of Joe seeming to want me to morph into something that I just is not who I am. I used to think that if I just waited long enough I would get the wanting to fly out of my system. That eventually I would just wake up one day and I would automatically be a different person, the person everyone has always wanted me to be. Someone my mom would consider normal. Yet I have wanted to fly since I was a little girl. I once even tried to jump off of the garage roof in my attempts at soaring. It didn't work the way I thought it should. Does that mean that I should give up trying? You only fail if you fail to try. And I want to keep trying to fly until the day I die. There have been very few people in my life who have understood that this is what defines me. Perhaps my mom's definition of normal is relative to the world she exists in. I have created a world for myself that is different from the world she lives in daily. Maybe this is why some around me have a different definition of what is normal behavior.

I didn't often take the time to think about my relationship with Joe. I knew that this was because if I did I would have to admit to myself that staying with Joe was just a matter of convenience. Well, there is also the great sex part, but even Stephanie Plum - with all of my Hungarian hormones - knows that can't be the only basis to a relationship. While it is a plus, when I got to the heart of it there wasn't much else to our relationship. I really can't see us existing in state except the one have been currently trying to exist in. This state involves a lot of fights, great make up sex and a few beers in front of the TV. Not much solid in there for the long term. Joe was raised in the same area of the Burg that I was. He does seem to be evolving into a different type of man than the rest of his family. A bit more solid. I think he wants a wife to be someone like his mom was.

I want my heart, mind and soul to keep on flying. I want to be who I am in my heart. And I want to be with someone who believes in my heart.

I was deep in thought when I heard the phone ringing again. Grateful for any interruption from my deep and dangerous thoughts I made a dash to answer.

"Yo."

"Yo, yourself."

That would be Ranger I could feel smiling on the other end. Sometimes I thought we had a telepathic connection that allowed us to have deep conversations through one-word sentences.

"Rough Morning?"

"Ordinary." For me just about anything was ordinary. Old leftover food, garbage, dead bodies, car bombings – yup, just an ordinary day in the life of Stephanie Plum. Though, I guess the deep thoughts were out of the ordinary. Ordinarily I tried to avoid those as much as possible. They make my head hurt.

"You were at the Police Department." Not a question, just a statement that let me know that he had already heard about the scene with Morelli. Ranger doesn't approve of my relationship with Morelli.

Avoiding the undercurrent I went with, "I got your present. Thanks."

"Babe." How could one word mean so many things? Beyond that, how was I able to know what he meant? Maybe there is more to the telepathy between us than I thought. "Just a reminder that I can make you forget."

"Forget what?"

"Other men."

"Oh." Gulp! "Were you trying?"

"Maybe. Do you want me to?" Oh jeez, how could I answer that?

Deciding to be brave, I kept in mind the matters of heart and Morelli I had just debated with myself and went with, "I always knew that I wanted you to try someday."

"Maybe someday should happen today."

Ranger's quick response jolted me to my toes. Way too deep for Ms. Plum here! Going for the suave composed feel I managed to squeak out a shocked gasp. True Stephanie form showing through.

"Babe."

And with that hot and heavy Babe he was gone. That man may be a walking sex-god, but his phone manners stink. Though right now the way my toes were curled into the floor and the heat I was feeling in good places just from knowing what that last Babe meant were enough to make me quickly forgive his phone manners.

I decided that I had done enough dangerous thinking for the time being and chose to head to the Vincent Plum Bond Office and pick up Lula. I pulled on a clean set of clothes and threw my hair up in a ponytail and headed out of my apartment. A good ol' lunch from McDonalds sounded like just what a girl needed to replenish her body. McDonalds comes second on my favorite places to eat list. First would be Pino's. Pino's makes great pizza and subs, real Italian. Though Shorty's, a favorite restaurant of Ranger's does give them competition.

Lula's company for lunch was sure to provide enough entertainment to keep me from thinking any more of these dangerous self-discovery thoughts. Lula is an ex-ho who was left for dead on my fire escape by a horrid-minded criminal who wanted to show me the terror he could cause. Lula now works – or at least pretends to – at Vinnie's office doing the filing. She also occasionally works as my partner when I need help in a take down. Although, her presence typically just increases the likelihood that more than the usually amount of ordinary Stephanie Plum disasters will happen.

Walking in the front door of the office I was bombarded by, "Girlfriend, what were you thinking! Fighting with super-cop! Now where you gonna be getting you some? We gonna have to live with your cranky ass!" That would be Lula accosting me. Typical to form she was dressed in spandex from top to bottom. Today the spandex was bright neon orange and I am pretty sure that her hair wasn't more than a shade off of the color of the clothes.

While I do tend to be cranky when I'm not taking care of my hormones, I just wasn't up to discussing it. Before I could get out an answer to shut Lula up the office went silent on its own. I knew what that meant. I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Only one person has that effect on me.

"Don't worry about Stephanie. She won't be cranky for long. I plan to make sure of that."

Double gulp! Lula's eyes were huge and I was as pale as a ghost.

Ranger glided up behind me, spun me around and gave me a kiss with enough tongue that my toes were curled so tight they were gripping the inside of my shoes and the heat from the kiss was moving south – quickly! Pulling back Ranger looked into my eyes and said, "Babe" before he walked into Vinnie's private office. Any more of this toe curling stuff today and my feet are going to need a massage.

"Holy Shit! Girlfriend, I think Ranger just implied that he wanted to do you!" Lula managed to squeak out while she was fanning herself.

That would be the impression I got too. I just wasn't going to comment on my feelings about this. Heck, even if I wanted to I didn't think I would be able to. First, I didn't know my feelings on this. Ok, so maybe I do, I just don't want to admit them for a lot of reasons. Second, I was still nearly incapable of speech after that kiss! And he kissed me in public! He has planted a few stolen toe-curling kisses on me in the past, but never in public.

"How about we pick up some McDonalds and head out to pick up Jim Kinnard." Perhaps I could distract myself from hot and heavy Ranger thoughts that he shared in public with a greasy burger and fries and a slimy skip.

"Great Idea! If you don't have him by 8 a.m. tomorrow you are out of job!" Vinnie yelled from his office. Vinnie likes to plant bugs in the front office so he can spy us peons. I think it is just so he can make sure we aren't talking about him.

Jim Kinnard has been on my to pick up list for the last ten days. I have been striving to avoid his capture nearly as much as he has. I have put it off to the point where today is the last day before Vinnie forfeits his bond. That would not make the weasel happy. Plus, my checkbook needed the paycheck.

Lula looked a little concerned as she asked, "Isn't Big Jim a friend of Vinnie's?"

"Yup. And according to his address he lives on the outskirts of Trenton in a little ranchette area."

Lula had confusion written on her face – more than normal.

"The ranchette homeowner's association allows owners to keep small ranch animals on their property."

Lula paled a little and hesitantly said, "And he's a friend of Vinnies? He doesn't have ducks. . .?"

I just wanted to get out of that office before Ranger came back through, "I'll buy at McDonalds." There is a story of my slimy cousin Vincent Plum and ducks that is just best not repeated.

That was enough to make Lula grab her purse and dash for my car yelling, "I'll need to stop at the mall on our way back. A girl deserves a reward for helping with scum like that."

I was right behind her. Avoiding Ranger was probably best for right now. I had pretty much decided that I needed to let Joe know that our off-again stage was looking permanent. I resigned myself to the fact that as much as I cared about Joe maybe there was a reason that I had never been able to tell him that I loved him. Maybe, just maybe, it was because I didn't love him. I don't think he really loves me either. I know he cares about me, but I think I am realizing that he is in love with a dream. Maybe we both are. That doesn't mean having a dream of the way you want your life is bad, just perhaps we are not the ones to fill in the empty spaces in each other's dreams.


End file.
